


On Velvet Paws

by 7cinnamonroses



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Childhood Memories, F/M, Lokitty, Shapeshifter Loki
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-20
Updated: 2015-07-13
Packaged: 2018-04-05 08:13:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4172469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/7cinnamonroses/pseuds/7cinnamonroses
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on about a billion prompts on tumblr that have Loki turn into a cat. The Logyn variety!</p><p>Sigyn is an involuntary guest on Asgard. Not to worry though: Her Grandmother Freya sent her a cat to keep her company in her time of distress. A thoughtful gesture. Enter Loki, God of Mischief.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The ward idea hit me like a train the other night and since I always wanted to write Lokitty, I just ran with it. This will have 2 parts and is in no relation to my other Logyn fic "The Victorious"... which I really ought to update soon.

Being afraid of thunderstorms was a ridiculous foible! The only thing that happened was a loud noise and some sudden but short-lived flash of light that would brighten the sky. Not much to worry about. Especially when you were in the safe environment of a bed inside a room of a large castle. Even if there were a fire, chances weren’t high that it would brake out anywhere near this room close to the quarters of the young princes.

In theory, these were very logical and sensible thoughts.

Too bad they didn’t help the shaking figure that was hiding under said bed one bit. Still, no need to become judgemental when faced with such disregard for logic and sense. Two excuses can easily be laid down to account for such behaviour:

First of all, children had no obligation to act logical or sensible all the time! If they weren’t audacious brats as a rule, they were free to be illogical to their little heart’s content in times of distress. The tiny, hiding creature was indeed a child –a girl named Sigyn– so there was nothing about her fear to be frowned upon. She was quite aware of the silliness of her phobia, so neither denseness nor ignorance could be held against her. Fear had a right to be irrational and she was making use of it right this very moment.

The second excuse for her to abandon the warmth of the soft sheets was just as simple: This place was foreign to her. This wasn’t her bed, nor was it her room. She wouldn’t know where she would find her parents, for their lodgings were on another floor. Her favourite servant had not accompanied them, so no one was sleeping in the tiny chamber next to her own bedroom –neither was there a tiny chamber to her guest-room to begin with!

Were she to run out of her room, screaming for her mother like a babe, she’d only be heard by the princes and her younger brother. This had to be avoided at all costs, for they would only make fun of her, something she dreaded more than any thunderstorm.

The princes were a bit older than Sigyn. She had been a bit shy around them, never having met boys that began looking more like grown men. Did boys their age still think girls were stupid? Her personal servant had told her that all boys eventually stopped being brutes towards girls, especially if they thought them pretty. The woman had checked herself and had smiled then, adding that sometimes they would tease girls they liked though.

This had confused the little princess. Her mild and humble vanity was pleased when someone –and if it be but a single person– told her she looked pretty. But what did that have to do with teasing? When she liked someone or thought they looked pleasant, she wanted them to stay with her. Surely boys knew that teasing someone would make them cry and run away?!

Fortunately, both princes had been kind to her and her little brother when being introduced. Sigyn’s training had taught her that she was to remain with her mother and the queen for the time being, so she had not had time to really speak with the princes. She’d hate for them to think of her as stupid though. And she most certainly would think someone who woke her up by crying and screaming in the middle of the night incredibly stupid!  
What added up to her problematic situation was her yearning to making her parents proud of her. It was the first time that she was allowed to accompany her mother and father and grandparents on their journeys. Her tutors had instructed her how a princess –for this was her station– was to speak, to sit, to dance, to walk…  
Most of it had made perfect sense to her, while other things bordered on being absurd. Anyhow, she had worked too hard to have some vile weather and loud noises put it all to shambles. Her mother and ladies-in-waiting had not raised a coward!

She still preferred remaining under the bed for the moment.

Just in case!

 

\----

 

Hundreds of years later, ambassadors and other important foreigners were all lined up to meet the Allfather in his newly repaired grand hall. Some had travelled from far-off realms, whereas others were spokes-men from different clans and towns.  
Letters were to be exchanged, gifts would be received and petitions were to be made. And of course, there would be requests for something else.

Odin Allfather, ruler of Asgard and protector of the Nine Realms surely was just as aware of this circumstance as the young men and women who were to attend the visit.  
Glances and encouraging smiles were exchanged, a few made an effort to hide their tears. The old people –most of them men– did not only bring gifts and warm words, they also reminded a group of young princes and princesses of their home sickness.

After the attack on Asgard by the villainous Malekith, Odin had invited the great houses of the different realms. If Asgard was endangered, so was any other realm to the reasoning of many. Kings and Queens had reacted accordingly.  
Feasts were being held in honour of the attendants, who had been encouraged to allow their children to accompany them. Nobody wanted to display fear or weakness by not appearing of high spirits and optimistic.  
Rulers and warlords alike signed treaties before the second night was done. Their festive mood and the promise of further glory and safety had caused them to miss one condition in the peace treaties however.

As a token of loyalty, the Allfather reserved the right to keep at least one of their children in Asgard. The wards were to be treated as befitted their rank and no harm would befall them, as long as Odin had their parent’s preserving support –in all things! Voices were raised in opposition to such cruelty. Fathers raged against the sole ruler of the Realm Eternal. To no use. The signatures of every king and every lord were distinguishable on the dreaded document.  
“My lords, if I were in the position to give them, I’d exchange my own children in return.” The old king had spoken evenly. “But as it happens, I appear to be short of sons and daughters.” A rumble of anger had threatened to develop into downright mutiny, as the one eyed god raised his hand once more to silence them.

“However, I cannot ask you to carry the disadvantage alone. Sacrifices need to be made on both of our sides to secure peace. To preserve this peace, I give you those whom were almost as close to me as my own children.”

Advisors and Generals, as well as friends of Prince Thor had begrudgingly handed themselves over to the betrayed guests at this point.  
“You shall not be denied to see your children whenever you wish.”, the old Ás had sworn. “It is not my wish to be cruel. But my people yearn for safety and last night I had been given to understand you shared this sentiment.”

After some more negotiations and wisely chosen words, the promises of favours to come and the reminder that all had to be done to secure peace and unity, the Lords decided not to risk their honour by going back on their oaths. Few swore that there had been no mention of the exchanging of wards on the document when they signed it, but they were silenced by their own doubts.  
So, on this day, eight additional people were present, three of them but children. The king of Asgard had allowed the younger ones to sit at his feet next to the throne, while the older ones –three young women and two males– stood on the golden steps that lead to the monarch’s seat.

The first diplomat had made his way from Alfheim. One of the youngest wards –a girl elf with yellow hair– gazed longingly at the man. She was obviously hoping she’d be allowed to be able to return to Alfheim with him. As this was not to be, she swallowed hard, resisting the tears. Instead she cradled four letters and a tiny casket close to her tiny body. Her large pink eyes were searching those of one of the elder females. And indeed the attention they sought was not denied as Sigyn turned her head and subtly inclined her head in a brief nod. The little one smiled and –her age getting the better of her royal education– waved goodbye to the diplomat as he bowed to the Allfather.

The old king, seeing this, chuckled and patted her tiny head. With a twinkle in his eye, he playfully reprimanded her, smiling all the time as the child blushed and giggled.

Next in line was a diplomat from Vanaheim, two servants carrying gifts and a golden basket. A silk cloth covered it, bearing the symbol of Queen Freya, grandmother to the maiden who had just granted attention to the little Princess, mother to another young girl –Gersemi– not quite grown out of childhood yet, godmother to Vár –one of the little girls who sat close to the throne– and aunt to a young Prince who stood on the left side of Odin.

Again, gifts were exchanged, the Prince being the one to receive his share of affectionate words and trinkets first. Nobody objected to things being handled as such. No one, safe for the content of the golden basket. Before the servant who carried it could react, one of the presents –a tiny furry being– escaped from under the cloth. It dashed forward to escape the noisy room full of weird people, when a set of delicate hands closed around its little body. Those very hands carefully lifted the excited animal into the air.

“Hush, little one.” the Princess cooed when the animal struggled to get out of her gentle yet firm grip.

“What is it?” a tiny son of a dwarf warlord asked, eyes becoming big as saucers. The petite elf, too rose to her feet in attempt to see better.

The young woman smiled and searched the Allfather’s eye. Languidly he turned his sharp gaze on her and she fell into a low curtsy.

“Might they come and see, my King?” she begged softly. A small smile on the lips of the old man hid itself behind a finger that was brushing over his mouth as if considering her request.

The children all looked up at him now, none moving a muscle or saying a word.

After a pause his hand fell from his mouth and his eye left the Vanir to settle on the children.  
“Go and see what a fierce beast Princess Sigyn caught for you.”

Children will be children, no matter the figurative colour of their blood. With a squeal and excited laughter they jumped to their tiny feet and rushed towards Sigyn, much like the kitten had done.

“Soft!” she chided with a mild smile as she sank on her knees to allow them a better view on her prey. “You’ll scare it. It is such a tiny creature, look.”

The children gasped at the grey animal.

“What is that?” asked the dwarf-boy.

“A cat.” Announced Freya’s godchild. No doubt, one of the cats was intended for her.

“Cat?!” the boy repeated, trying out the word and moving closer towards Sigyn.

“If you’ll promise not to be too rough you can pet its fur, Gylvi. It calmed down now, don’t be afraid.” Sigyn told the boy, knowing that the girls would not touch the animal before knowing that it was safe to do so.

“I’m never afraid!” the little boy insisted, his male pride at danger of being ridiculed by a mere girl. None of the two would tell any other living being that he looked a bit worried before his fingers came into contact with the creature’s soft fur. With a laugh he drew his hand back and beamed at Sigyn. Reaching out to caress the animal that had been unknown to him before, he turned around to the girls and nodded. “You can touch it, it is not dangerous. Don’t be afraid!” he added quickly and Sigyn had to look away to hide her smile.

“It is so soft…” the tiny female elf mused in awe of the being that was new to her. Of course she had known about cats! She had seen many pictures in her books that her father had given to her. But touching one was a different matter. “Can I hold it, Sigyn?” she begged shyly.

While this was progressing, the diplomat apologized to the king, explaining that the animals had been supposed to be asleep. With no sign of anger, but lacking any kind of sympathy, the apologies went unheeded. Odin’s gaze was fixed on the group that had gathered around the animal.

“The animals shall be brought to our guest’s rooms where they cannot break free and cause chaos.” He announced. Sigyn and another woman glanced up to him, one quickly withdrawing her gaze once more. The Vanir girl’s eyes almost appeared to be pleading with him. To allow the children this diversity.

For but a moment, the man on the throne seemed about to speak again. The words indeed already were on his tongue. He’d add: “But this beast was tamed and shall remain with us!” to his command. The idea to please the humble and silent request suited him well. Bowing to those pleading orbs would trigger another of her bright smiles. One person undid all this.

The lad was the eldest child of Volstagg, one of Prince Thor’s eldest friends. An easy-going, good-humoured male of the name Theoric, who obviously shared his father’s strength, but lacked his appetite. Thinking this a joke, he smirked and spoke up:

“We need not fear, with a maiden who is as brave as she is fair in our midst.”

The man on the throne fixed the youth with a cold glare and all was lost. There would be no humouring her now, for it would appear that he’d just humoured her because of that meddling fool. Thin lips hardened which a white beard obscured. He’d not allow this savage to take credit!

The Allfather dismissed the bearer of the basket with a wave of his hand and the man quickly stepped forward to retrieve the escaped animal from the hands of young Vár. She had placed it in her lab as she sat next to Sigyn and the other two children.

“No!” she protested when the servant reached for the little ball of fur. Adverting her eyes from the Allfather who seemed insistent about the removal of the creature, Sigyn placed one hand on the child’s shoulder.

“Vár, it can wait in your room for you. It shall be your little cat and we will all play with it later. In the meantime you can think of the most beautiful name for it.” she told her in a low, calm voice. She disliked doing it! On her account, the child had all the right to be stubborn. Just like all of them, Vár too was far away from home, in a palace she did not know, separated from her mother and father at a tender age. The Vanir would have granted her to scream and cry had she possessed any say in the matter. Unfortunately, she shared the girl’s fate. Which probably made her feel more sympathy for the young ones. Sigyn’s wish to go home was as ardent as theirs.  
After she had outgrown her fear of thunderstorms with some help, she had liked to visit Asgard in earlier years of her life. Now it was nothing but a place filled with poisoned memories, every thought about former years having a bitter taste.

At least she was an adult though. She knew and understood what was happening and had means to communicate with her loved ones. The children were defenceless, which had prompted her to take special care of them.

“I shall tell you a story about cats later.” Offered the sweet voice of Gerðr, a young lady with long hair that was as red as a poppy.

“You hear that? There shall be a story.” Sigyn forced herself to smile in excitement. How much she would love them all to be able to go home!

Vár’s shoulders sank and the other two children scooped a bit closer to her, willing to comfort their new friend. The exchange of wards had had one positive outcome: The rulers of tomorrow met on equal grounds, forming friendships. This was what Sigyn kept telling herself, not wanting to focus on how harsh she thought the arrangement.

“But be nice to her!” the little girl instructed the servant who assured her that no one would dare to harm her new pet.

“Are you done already?” came the king’s gruff voice and the Princess needed all of her royal self-restraint not to glare at him. How was he so changeable? In one moment it was all wonderful and almost pleasant and then in the next he acted harsh and unkind. Because of the tiniest comments, too!

They curtsied and apologized in a low voice, avoiding eye-contact with the ruler. The children remained close to Sigyn and Gerðr, not brave enough to return and sit this close to the somehow angered king.

 

\-----

 

No movement went unnoticed, not even the slightest tilt of her head. The graceful turn of her upper body, the soft line that her arm drew as she took one child’s hand into hers. The thumb caressing the back of the child's hand. A sweet, reassuring glance.  

Her face was a masterpiece. It’s expressions –no matter how much she tried to obscure them by smiling or remaining emotionless– had been analysed and spied on with unwavering diligence. The delicious instance of anger she had kept under control so skilfully caused his pulse to quicken in excitement.

How well she checked her frustration with his hypocrisy time and time again. It was thrilling to see her fight a battle with her morals –her precious, unfailing common sense– and her forced acceptance for her current situation’s finality.  
Sigyn’s scent had been stored away greedily in the depths of his memory and he wondered whether her fury would sweeten or spoil her fragrance. The memory could not content him either way.

Again and again he had tested her, only to find her capable of surprising him. Of opposing him without ever becoming a nuisance he’d have to rid himself of. As tender and loving and affectionate as her natural humour was, she would not yield when challenged.

The warmth of her heart radiated from her lovely eyes, though they would pierce and judge whenever he or others appeared to be cruel.

She held onto what was taught her so tightly and yet Sigyn would not allow him –or rather Odin– free reign. Had he asked her for her opinion regarding anything, she would have stated it honestly and without a moment of hesitation.

And it was delicious.

Loki did not simply yearn for her. He hungered.

  
Only having his memories to feed on up until now, he had seized any opportunity to be close to her. Until this troublesome upstart began to shift his interest onto her! Loki had no proof that she encouraged Theoric’s advances and that should have been enough to put him at ease. But he raged every single time he caught the boy staring at the one **_he_** adored, for while he had no proof, he neither had anything to disprove his fears! What business had that brat to meddle? Why could Sigyn not sneer coldly at his compliments and turn from the boy? 

 _It is not in her nature to be cruel to those who did her no harm..._ he reminded himself. Still, Theoric had no right to speak in familiar terms with his king’s intended wife –for that was what Loki wanted her to be. What she would be. He’d not allow anyone to oppose him in this.  

With jealous eyes he watched Theoric speed up his steps when the wards were excused after the last congregation had left. The children clung to her light, flowing skirt, rendering it impossible for the man with the flaming beard to walk too close to her.

Something had to be done, before...

Luckily enough, Freya’s gift had fashioned the perfect opportunity for him.

So it happened that when Sigyn returned to her chambers that night, a slender cat with pitch-black fur had curled up on her bed.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This got a bit longer than anticipated, so there'll be three chapters of this. I do what I want!!!!

Chapter 2

 

The animal stirred when Sigyn closed the door behind her. It lifted its head and the emerald eyes fell on the princess. A beautiful specimen! The woman however had unconsciously drawn back upon seeing the black ball of fur. Her heart dropped and became a burning, stinging mass of pain. _He_ had often conjured up black kittens to amuse her when they all had been young.

 _And innocent_ … _and alive!,_ her mind added with a bitterness that almost made her flinch.

Her new pet – blissfully unaware of the intense pain that those memories had awakened – stretched and hopped off the bed with the elegance and dignity all feline’s possessed.

She watched the animal walk towards her, not moving a single muscle herself. Would it vanish if she were to touch it, like Loki’s kittens had?

It was this ludicrous thought that shook her out of her brooding state. She had sworn not to think of him while she was forced to reside in Asgard’s palace. While it had been inevitable at certain points, Sigyn had avoided musings about her prince at all costs when bedtime approached. She didn’t want the dreams of him with their sweet deception and cruel images to haunt her in this time of trouble.

None of this was the animal’s fault, she realized. The poor thing couldn’t help it and it would be cruel to withhold affection when it was sought. Sigyn knelt down in front of the fine animal, holding out her hand to be sniffed. The pink nose nudged against her fingers, followed by the tiny head pressing into her palm. Shame swept over her, when – for one second – she felt utter disappointment. No green aura lit up. It was concrete, velveteen fur that Sigyn felt under her fingers, not thin air.

As a child, she had wished for Loki’s illusions to be real. Now she’d give the world for one final deception. The way he’d snicker when catching her fall for another of his tricks was still ringing in her ears from time to time. It was cruel of her to wish this living, breathing being to be a figment. Yet she did, and it felt horrible. It only made her more determined to be affectionate. Out of shame and due to this unbidden rush of nostalgia.

Sigyn moved to a low settee, determined to sort out her thoughts. Her new companion followed suit with a quick leap, pushing its head against her hip.

“You’re such a pretty thing…” she cooed softly, as the creature climbed into her lap. Again, it nudged against her hand, demanding to be caressed and adored properly. “We need to find a name for you, don’t we, little one?”

The creature looked up at her and meowed, making her grin.

Over the next few minutes, she spent her time by finding out the gender of her pet –since there was no collar or note to give it away– and instructing her assigned handmaiden to fetch some food and water.

When the woman had returned with two bowls and a flask of fresh water, Sigyn released her from her duty for the night, before turning her attention to the tom-cat.

“So, good sir, what shall I call you, hm?” she mused loudly, reaching out to touch the soft fur. Immediately the ‘good sir’ pressed against her hand eagerly and was quick to jump back into Sigyn’s lap.

For a few moments she sat in silence, her fingers running through soft fur. By now the cat had curled up and was purring, calming the princess. Her thoughts and musings scattered, eyes closing and opening several times. That pleasant weight in her lap was lulling her in with its warmth and that salving sound.

A sigh escaped her. Had her grandmother bewitched the animal to be gentle and affectionate? It would be like her. Queen Freya was a busy woman with a freedom-loving, independent nature. She could be loving, there was no doubt about that. But her impetuosity and passionate heart would sometimes clash with the needs of her family, especially with the needs of Sigyn’s mother. From tales, she knew that there had always been attempts by Freya to recompense such shortcomings with magical tokens of her love. Maybe she could also make cats compassionate to cater to the needs of Asgard’s young wards. She’d have to ask her next time they’d speak.

A sudden, loud and enthusiastic set of knocks at her apartment’s door startled the princess and the cat, too jumped up. It glanced first towards the door and then up to Sigyn, who stared into the rather displeased looking eyes. Again, she smiled.

“Shall we go look who disturbs our reprieve in such a blunt manner?”

The animal’s eyes narrowed and it walked a half-circle on Sigyn’s thighs before lying down again. Obviously, it was reluctant to give way to the trespasser’s demand for entrance. This time, the princess giggled, causing her pet to lift his head in –what seemed– a playful way. Had she paid attention to detail, she would’ve seen the mischievous glint that would’ve given the cat’s secret away. Right now, her attention was diverted by another knock.

“Now come, it might be one of the children, bringing their new kitten to play with you!” Sigyn announced while lifting the animal into her arms under short-lived protestations. Claws penetrated her naked shoulder for but a moment and low growl was heard, before she shushed him while entering the lofty reception room next to her chamber.

Upon opening the door, Sigyn didn’t encounter one of the children, but tall, good-looking Theoric and next to him, her handmaiden. The woman curtsied.

“Princess Sigyn, Lord Theoric, Son of Volstagg wishes to speak with you.”

Her muscles tightened as her stomach twisted and turned into a tight knot as Theoric bowed, a becoming smile on his features.

“I must humbly beg you to forgive my intrusion, Princess Sigyn.”

The woman’s hands held onto the cat, whose muscles were as tense as her own, its tail whipping through the air in irritation.

“I freely grant you forgiveness, Lord Theoric, yet I wonder if we could not converse in the morning? I was just about to retire.”

The handmaiden, catching her mistress’s meaning curtsied and had the air of a woman determined to get rid of the pesky youth. Theoric blushed and adverted his eyes. Almost sheepishly he added.

“While I’d hate to refrain you from getting rest, I was compelled to seek you out at this hour. My father gave orders in his letter that were to be followed immediately. Forgive me, I am barely acting upon orders.”

In the end, she allowed him to come inside and take a seat after a firm request for him to get to the point quickly, the handmaiden ever at Sigyn’s side to usher him out in case the princess showed signs of fatigue.

He bowed to her request for haste. Without many words, he informed her that it would please his mother to gift the princess with an heirloom of her family if Volstagg consented. The various accounts of her parent’s kindness towards her husband and Sigyn’s own reputation – “Despite… former disadvantageous ties!” – had awakened his family’s eagerness to uphold friendly ties in the future.

“My father – so it seems to me – resolved that we should all visit Vanaheim, once your visit here has ended. He tells me that your grandfather, the king is praising you from dawn until dusk.”

She listened to all of this. Her back straight and rigid to the brink of discomfort. In short intervals she blushed – from various emotions, none of them pleasant – and blanched, but her expression remained one of vivid attention. The shaking of her hands was hidden by black fur.

The cat’s muscles – as tense as hers – and it’s posture ready to attack. Ready to tear open the trespasser’s throat.

Sigyn flinched as long claws pierced her skirts and her skin and gave a distinct jump. It startled both the animal and her visitor. With drawn back ears and a quick turn, the cat gazed up at Sigyn, body pressed close to her legs.

“Are you hurt, your highness?” asked the handmaiden, who had instantly been at her side, trying to grab the offensive animal. The princess waved her away, eyes on Theoric. Her own mood had suddenly taken a different turn, so she’d be a hypocrite to hold the cat accountable.

“I fail to see your father’s urgency, Lord Theoric. What about this could not have waited until tomorrow?” she wondered.

Again, Theoric smiled.

“Forgive me…”

“There’d be nothing to forgive, if you’d possess the kindness to speak plainly.” She cut in, almost snapping at the attractive man, who looked both surprised and offended by a woman addressing him as such.

 _Not quite so favourable accounts now, I take it?,_ she thought venomously.

She was in no mood to forgive anymore. The way he had spoken of her _former disadvantageous ties_ had rid her of any patience and goodwill for the moment. His words had burnt her. All she wanted was for him to be gone.

“My father asked me to give you this as a token of my family’s friendship towards Vanaheim.” He said with a controlled voice, reaching into his pocket and opening a small wooden case. A golden brooch was resting on some black cloth. “It was a gift to my mother after she gave birth to me. She insisted he’d take it with him.”

“Then it is his duty to hand it back to her upon his return and not dispose of it by asking you to present it to me.” She said unyielding, two watchful emerald eyes fixed on her face. Theoric, too, was gazing at her, though his gaze was quite different.

“I am certain he’d be delighted if you considered this a promise.” He said, finally getting to the real motivation behind his visit. “The union of our houses would be an advantage to Vanaheim. Prince Thor shall return one day and take his rightful place and…”

“Enough, Lord Theoric.” Sigyn interrupted yet again, her voice strong and monotone. “My betrothed is but three months dead, I certainly don’t think of seeking new _ties_ yet.” Realizing that she was being more than uncivil to the son of an ally, she caught herself. “I thank your family for their kindness, but surely you understand my reasoning.”

What was it with her grandfather praising her? If what Theoric said was true! Loki had been imprisoned, but there had been no call to officially end their betrothal 2 and a half years ago. Everyone had told them that he had died due to some accident with the Bifröst.

She had mourned, oh how she had mourned.

No one had possessed the heart to speak of finding her another husband. Not when she had locked herself away and had cried for weeks.

Then came the rumours and whispers that turned into facts and shouts. She had been the one shouting, despite her station. Station she had damned the day they told her that Loki was held in one of Asgard’s cells after some occurrence on Midgard. Her betrothed was alive and no one had had the courage to tell her. Not even Queen Frigga, whom she had always thought her ally and understanding companion in her utter despair.

She had raged and had cursed them all! First her anger, then her disgust had been animalistic. It had taken skill, patience and time on her mother and grandmother’s side to convince her to listen. Learning the truth.

Why had he not come to her? She’d have welcomed him or would’ve followed him.

Her curses were replaced by begging. She had sent letters and messages to the Allfather, to Frigga, even to Prince Thor. Sigyn at least wanted to see her betrothed. Just once, so he might know that she had never forgotten about him. To ask him why?! Hear it from him, not from diplomats who’d never argue with the Allfather.

She doubted that Odin had read even one of her letters. Thor might have read some of them. Neither had answered her pleas, though.

It had been Frigga who had answered, begging for her to be patient. Expressing her hopes that this dreadful crisis might yet be resolved. That she – Sigyn – ought not to loose faith. The queen knew her son – knew that there was good in him.

Sigyn had given them time. Had waited faithfully and without digress.

…and then he died the second time, after redeeming himself.

There had been no tears. None had been left. Silence had followed news of Loki’s heroic death and this had seemed to unsettle her family more than her former cries and moans had. She had felt faint and truly believed that for but one moment, her mind and sanity had slipped away.

It was since then, that she had dreams about him. That first time he had sought her out in a particularly noisy thunderstorm. Holding her like he was wont to do. Her snuggling into his warm embrace, innocently clutching his nightshirt. Him turning into dust under her touch, looking at her with the accusing glance of a betrayed man.

After three weeks of waking up from her own anguished cries, she had mixed a sleep potion that would allow her a dreamless rest.

She prayed for the Allfather to send them home soon, for her supplies were running short and she dared not ask the changeable king for a favour.

“You’re not referring to Prince Loki, your Highness?” Theoric asked, honestly startled by her cold refusal.

“This will be enough, Lord Theoric.” Sigyn said, holding back the tremor of her own voice before addressing the handmaiden. “Please show him out. Goodnight, my Lord.”

She rose to her feet, gently cradling the cat in her arms. Its eyes were big as saucers by now, but its bearing was calm and concentrated.

“Princess Sigyn, with all due respect, I am the son of…” Theoric hissed, coming to his feet.

“Her Royal Highness asked you to leave, Lord Theoric!” the handmaiden cut in, which did not seem to impress the lad.

“My father will be most displeased by these news and be sure to advice your parents to correct such behaviour, lest their daughter will become an embittered spinster over some traitor to the throne of Asgard.”

Tears were in her eyes that she had no desire allowing him to see, so Sigyn walked on. The animal suddenly wretched itself from her – probably too tight – grip. She didn’t dare turn around to get it.

_Don’t think about his words. Don’t…_

The last thing she heard was a loud hiss before she closed the door to her bedroom. Sigyn sank down onto the bed, hand covering her mouth, one arm wrapping itself around her upper body. Tears were running down her cheeks by now. She was clutching her own lips desperately to muffle the sound of her sobs.

She didn’t – she couldn’t – want to marry. Not Theoric nor any other. When his father had accepted to go to Vanaheim in exchange for Sigyn, she had thought little about the matter. But since three weeks, the young man had begun to single her out, constantly trying to be in her company.

He wasn’t a bad man, just not used to be inferior to a woman. Theoric had a temper, but did not seem the violent kind. He would be an excellent husband one day. Attentive. Good-humoured. Kind. But there was a flaw. And it would forever be a flaw. Theoric wasn’t the one she wanted. Had wanted since that first night that he had guarded her against the roaring thunder.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

With him dead.

Her practically a widow for the second time.

“Loki…” it wasn’t more than a whisper with her nearly choking on her tears.

When something pressed against her body a few minutes later, she was startled enough to stop the sobs for a moment. The cat had gotten into the room somehow, now looking up at her with its intelligent eyes.

She fetched it in her arms and held the tiny and warm body against her, sobbing pitifully. After some time, the handmaiden cleared her throat softly.

“Your highness, I was so keen as to prepare a bath.”

With gentle force, the woman ushered her into the bathing chamber, the cat following Sigyn, but sat outside, just by the threshold after the servant walked towards the bathtub.

“What an eager guard your grandmother sent you.” The woman mused while washing the younger ones hair. “He would not leave Lord Theoric out of his sight and seemed ready to fight. I declare, I’d have sunk his claws and teeth into his flesh had he taken but one step closer towards you.”

“A guard,” Sigyn mused, still caught up by her thoughts, but clinging to the new topic. “Maybe I should call him Vorðr then. Or Véurr...“

Her bath did not help to deviate her dark and morose state, though she fought her tears with vigour. Tonight she’d be sure to take a strong dose of the potion. Were she to see Loki die in her arms tonight…

The cat watched her closely while her handmaiden combed her wet hair until the princess requested her to finally leave for the night. She had assured the handmaiden that she was well enough and thanked her.

His eyes narrowed when Sigyn collected the potion out of her dressing table. He jumped onto the desk to have a closer look when Sigyn poured some of the liquid into a goblet filled with water.

The princess felt the curious gaze and smiled sadly.

“This is not for you, Véurr.” she informed him and reached out to pet his head. He sat next to the goblet and had a critical look that amused her. There was a knock on the door before Sigyn could drink the potion. Sending a warning look towards the feline, she placed the goblet on her nightstand before leaving the room.

When she opened the door she found the children Vár, Gylvi and Enfys. Vár was holding the grey kitten in her arms, while a beautiful taller cat stood between the dwarf and the young elven princess. All three of them wore their nightgowns and a servant stood behind them.

“The royal highnesses…”

“Sigyn, look there was a cat in my room, too!” Enfys announced, pointing at the animal that stood next to her, ignoring etiquette. Gylvi was running his tiny hands over its back with adoration in his eyes.

“Why would queen Freya give a cat to Enfys, too?” Vár wondered, looking at the young woman in an accusing sort of way. “Or did you give us your cat?”

With a smile, Sigyn crouched down.

“No. I have a kitty, too. He is beautiful and I shall never part with him. Maybe our dear queen miscounted and accidentally sent one too many?” she suggested. “Now Enfys, maybe the Allfather decided to allow Gylvi and you to share the responsibility for this cat?”

The children beamed and nodded. After a few words, Sigyn instructed the servant to lead the children back to their rooms. She felt exhausted, even though it was barely an hour after sunset. She quickly drank her potion and slipped under the covers of her bed. Véurr was nowhere to be found and she was too tired to look for him. Just when she was about to drift off, she felt something depress the mattress and a few heartbeats later, soft warmth slipped into her embrace and pressed against her chest.

It was the sound of relaxing purrs that accompanied her to her way into a night of restless sleep.


End file.
